Page 3 of I Can’t Even Think Straight

Monday: Queer Talk—Lunch Hall

I talk to Matt in the hushed tone

we always use for queer talk at school.

We’re sitting at our regular table

in the lunch hall, just the two of us as usual.

“And then Adonis asked me

if he could borrow Vass.”

Matt puts down his slice of pizza

and puts a hand up to his mouth,

demonstrating a silent gasp.

His bicep bulges beneath his shirt,

bigger than before summer.

“What did you say to that?”

“I said he’d be doing me a favor.

I was just trying to read in peace.”

“Great response—very nonchalant.

But how did you actually feel?”

“I felt gutted. I don’t know why,

but for a second I thought

Adonis might’ve been interested in me,

and not Vass.

And get this: when Vass came back

from being with Adonis

for the entire afternoon,

they wouldn’t tell me anything

about what happened.

Don’t you think that’s rude?

After I’d spent my entire holiday

keeping Vass company

while they pined after that boy.”

“They didn’t tell you anything?”

“Zip, zilch, nada.

When I started asking questions,

they said to get my own love life

and keep out of theirs.”

“Maybe they’re right.”

“Excuse me? Why are you siding with

someone you’ve never even met?”

“I’m always on your side, Kai.

But you read all those love stories,

and all that soppy poetry,

and yet you only tell me

about Vass’s crushes,

and never your own.

From what you’ve told me—

and I can only go by

what you’ve told me,

because, as you’ve rightly pointed out,

I’ve never met Vass—

but from what you’ve told me,

Vass makes it obvious

when they like someone.”

“So, what you saying now?

You’d be fine with me

crushing on boys at school?

Are you ready for me to come out?”

“You know where I stand, Kai,

I told you before summer:

I don’t plan to come out at high school,

like in those Heartstopper books

you love so much, but

you do you.”

You do you.

I hate this expression with a passion.

What does it even mean?

My eyes drift to a poster

on the wall behind Matt:

an upcoming author talk and a book signing.

I’m excited by the idea

of meeting someone who writes for a living.

I have so many questions.

Then Matt asks me,

“Don’t you think it’s odd

your two best friends haven’t met?”

Matt wants to hook up with Vass,

says the devil on my shoulder.

I’ve never told Matt

about the devil on my shoulder

because I worry

that he’ll think I’m crazy

or maybe even evil.

I force a smile and explain to Matt

for the umpteenth time:

“You’re a school friend.

Vass is a family friend.

Vass and I are like cousins.

What’s odd about that?

You haven’t introduced me

to any of your cousins.”

“I just thought it could be a laugh,”

says Matt, in a fake-casual voice,

“if the three of us hung out sometime.

I don’t have any other queer friends,

and you’ve got two. So...?”

Tell him about himself, says my devil.

“You don’t have any other queer friends,”

I say forcefully, through gritted teeth,

“because you’re afraid to come out.

And I didn’t come out before summer

because you begged me not to.

You’re trying to rewrite history now

with this ‘you do you’ nonsense,

but that’s not what you said before summer.”

I feel much better after this controlled explosion.

I won’t stand for Matt’s attempts to gaslight me.

Matt scrunches his right hand

into a fist in front of his face

and bites it in frustration.

“I didn’t beg you not to come out.”

His whisper is quieter than before.

“I said I was worried

it would draw attention to me,

as your best friend,

or should I say, your best school friend,

if you were to come out.”

“Exactly! It was emotional blackmail.

You kept me in the closet with you.

You know that wasn’t fair of you?”

He’s ashamed of you, says my devil.

He’s ashamed of himself, says my angel.

Matt looks over his shoulder toward

Nathan Anderson and The Boys:

a group of Black boys in our year.

“Just eat your pizza, Kai.

You know how you get when you’re hungry.”

I take a small bite of my BBQ chicken pizza

followed by a much bigger bite.

Matt’s right: I’m hungry.

Matt continues to speak as I eat.

“Let’s not argue in the lunch hall anymore.

Let’s leave these silly arguments in the past.

Our whisper arguments are the kinda thing

that’ll have people asking if we’re a couple.”

Matt says “couple”

as if it’s the worst thing imaginable,

as if us being a couple

would ruin our final years of school,

would cast a shadow across

the bright path to his straight-passing future,

would bring shame on his religious family,

and see him cast out for shame,

as if being perceived

to be in a couple with me

is a threat to everything

that matters to Matt.

He weighs his words before he speaks again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Kai.

I’m not being rude,

but your cane rows look busted.”

Matt’s short afro is always neat.

He keeps an afro comb

in his back right pocket.

It has a black, fist-shaped handle

and long, narrow metal tines.

“I know.” I swallow

my final mouthful of pizza crust,

my face hot with embarrassment.

“My mum didn’t have time

to redo them last night,

but I’m gonna ask my granny

to do it today after school.”